All The Things They Didn't Say
by FrillsAndRibbons
Summary: A look at the things that Gale and Dewey probably should have said to each other, but didn't.
1. Scream: Gale

She recognised the young officer as the one who had driven Sidney away the previous night, and decided that if any police officer had information to share regarding Sidney, it was probably this one. Admittedly, the fact that he knew she'd been chasing Sidney for an interview might count against her; on the other hand, he'd also seen Sidney punch her, which ought to be good for a few sympathy points. Besides, he looked young enough to be in her demographic, so she decided it was worth a shot.

Gale had never really understood the concept of subtlety, so her approach to the young deputy was shamelessly blatant; and it paid off. Some small snippets of information she suspected he hadn't even realised he was giving her, and then a somewhat bashful compliment which suggested that this particular source might not be averse to further chats with the redoubtable Gale Weathers.

So when she arrived at the house where the party was being held, she was prepared for a second encounter and, living up to her expectations, he even agreed to take her with him when he went to check out the party, affording her the perfect opportunity to place a camera inside the house. Between this covert camera deployment, graceful acceptance of the usual flattering remarks from starstruck fans, and her own mental notetaking, Gale was somewhat preoccupied, but she was still peripherally aware of the young officer's pride in having her with him. Undoubtedly, it was useful; but she was also beginning to find it rather endearing.

It swiftly became plain to her that, for his part, the deputy found her more than endearing. They'd been out of the house for barely an hour when he came to the van, inviting her to accompany him to check out a lead. The fact that he suggested walking rather than taking his patrol car suggested that he wasn't expecting the abandoned vehicle to be of any significance, but by that point Gale had already agreed to accompany him. Still, she didn't really regret her choice; the party had been proving as dull to watch as most teenage parties, and an evening stroll with an attractive young man who clearly thought she'd dropped straight from heaven would make a pleasant interlude. Besides, she justified it to herself, cultivating Deputy Dewey could potentially result in even greater dividends if he happened to let slip any further information about Sidney or the killer. Somehow, though, these fascinating topics simply didn't crop up in the conversation as they strolled in the direction of the abandoned car. Instead, they talked about themselves; oh, nothing particularly deep and meaningful, but enough to create a connection between them, so that, when they were forced off the road and Dewey landed on top of her, Gale gave in to her instincts and kissed him.

And for a brief, delightful moment, he'd responded; before his sense of duty forced him to pull away. Gale was accustomed to competing with many other factors in the lives of the men she dated; it was just that, until today, conscientiousness hadn't been one of them. In fact, really, when she thought about it, she had to laugh - albeit somewhat ruefully. Although she did notice that Deputy Dewey's sense of duty wasn't quite sufficient to cause him to direct his attention away from her to the car (not, at least, until she reached out and physically turned his head in the appropriate direction), so Gale rather sensed that, duty or not, she still represented a very considerable enticement.

After the identification of the car, however, Gale's usual journalistic monomania returned full force, and that, coupled with the exigencies of trying to save her own life, tended to blot the pleasant interlude with Deputy Dewey from her mind. When she next saw him, lying in a heap on the porch, she was convinced he was dead; and when she landed against him, after Billy sent her flying, she would have screamed at the thought of lying on top of a corpse if her well-honed survival instinct hadn't very emphatically told her that seeming to be anything other than unconscious would be a spectacularly bad idea.

When the nightmare was finally over, and the EMTs had arrived, naturally she was glad to find that Dewey was, in fact, still alive. But she was the first reporter on the scene, and the only one to have actually been an eye witness, so her report to camera was clearly the most pressing issue. She had her job to do, and Dewey obviously needed urgent medical treatment; anything else would have to wait.

Later, as she was packing to leave Woodsboro, probably for good, she toyed with the idea of stopping by the hospital, not quite on her way to the airport, to see Dewey, just for a moment; but then, really, what could she say to him if she did? She liked him, and she was well aware just how much he liked her, but their acquaintance had been undeniably brief. The time they'd spent together barely added up to an hour, even if she included the minutes she'd spent playing dead, lying against his unconscious body.

So Gale just left. Although not quite without a second thought. After all, her most pressing occupation now was to write the definitive book on the Woodsboro murders, and her experience of that was inextricably bound up with Deputy Dewey Riley.

She didn't hesitate to put down her initial dismissive judgement of him, but when it came to their later interactions, for once she decided to stay her pen. She had no intention of mentioning her covert camera, and while she wasn't precisely conversant with all the niceties of police procedure, she suspected that Dewey had stretched a point by taking her with him to the party. And she was almost certain that the Sheriff wouldn't have approved of her involvement in the discovery of Neil Prescott's car. Luckily, her journalistic style lent itself well to a thorough, but distant, recounting of events. If people wondered just where she'd gotten such detailed information, well, let them wonder. She wasn't admitting to any of it in print, which should keep her and Dewey both out of trouble, and everyone would be happy.

Not that Dewey himself would be likely to read the book. After all, it dealt in gruesome detail with his sister's murder and his own stabbing; Gale didn't really imagine he'd want to read about those. Besides, he'd been there - he knew just as much about the murders as she did. No, the only reason he'd have to read the book would be if he still had any sort of feelings for the author. Which she wasn't naïve enough to imagine he would. Not that she'd ever know; she was never likely to run into him again.


	2. Scream: Dewey

He'd noticed her around town; of course he had. She was a celebrity, of sorts, and besides, Gale Weathers wasn't exactly shy about getting herself noticed. But she hadn't really impinged much on his consciousness until the day after Sidney had punched her in the face.

She approached him outside the school, and he knew she was just fishing for information, but he was still flattered by the attention. She was Gale Weathers, and he was nothing special, just a small town cop. He didn't tell her anything, but she still seemed to be flirting with him, and as he left, with a rather clumsy compliment, she called out after him - not a question about Sidney, or the case, but asking him to call her Gale. Surely that suggested that she might want to see him again? This impression was confirmed when she turned up at the Macher house and, cutting through his official manner, asked him to take her to the party.

He hadn't been looking forward to turning up at the house; it was his duty to check out the party, but he knew what his reception was likely to be. Tatum would undoubtedly display her usual lack of respect, and the rest would follow suit. Dewey had no illusions about himself: he knew what his sister and her friends thought of him; and he also knew that the gorgeous, sexy Gale Weathers was way out of his league. But she'd smiled at him and flirted with him and asked him to call her Gale, and he really wanted her to do it all again - and preferably in front of witnesses, so that he could bask in her reflected glory. So he allowed her to join him. Okay, it was a little bit irregular, and checking out the party with her wasn't quite as good as going to a party with her, but it had still made Dewey's whole night. He even managed to forgive Tatum the insult to his own personal celebrity goddess, thanks to the exhilarating effect of the word 'your'. He couldn't help liking the idea of people thinking of Gale as 'his' anything.

However, while the tour of the party gave his ego a boost, ultimately it proved unsatisfactory. The only chance he had to actually talk to Gale was on the short walk along the drive, and he found he wanted more than a mere thirty seconds of her undivided attention. What he needed now was the opportunity for a longer walk, and the report of an unidentified vehicle seemed like a gift from heaven.

Gale clearly expected him to be driving, and logically, he supposed, that's what he ought to be doing. But it was only an abandoned car, it was probably nothing, and the idea of that walk alone with Gale was too tempting to resist. The big question was whether or not Gale would see it the same way. He held his breath, but she agreed with flattering readiness, and she even laughed at his admittedly rather lame attempt at a joke. By this point, Dewey decided, his whole heart belonged to Gale Weathers.

The walk was everything he had hoped. Gale didn't question him, didn't press for information about the case; instead, they simply talked. And there was a connection between them, Dewey could tell. But then those goddamned teenagers had to humiliate him, ignoring his instructions to stop, and forcing him, and Gale, to jump for their lives.

This was a disaster. He'd told her that the town didn't take him seriously, but that didn't mean he'd wanted a demonstration of the fact. He really wanted Gale to see him as strong, competent, manly. Not as the idiot who had to shove her into a ditch and then made matters worse by landing on top of her. Even then, he found himself reaching out to remove her hairband from where it had slipped onto her forehead, rather than doing the sensible thing and moving to let her get up. Tatum was right, he really was a doofus. This was the most mortifying moment of his life - until Gale Weathers kissed him.

Even then, he had to blurt out something stupid about being on duty. It wasn't what he'd wanted to say; his brain just hadn't quite caught up with his mouth. He thought he'd done better with his next remark, but it turned out that this time his brain was lagging behind hers, and she was actually referring to the car.

Still, on balance, he was glad he'd said it. After that, they were overtaken by events, and though he cherished the fact that her last words to him were an admonition to be careful, he hadn't seen her again, except on tv. He was sad about that, but he understood. There really wasn't much in Woodsboro for anyone as driven and ambitious as Gale Weathers. Still, he'd let her know how much she meant to him, and, if his reading of the situation had been correct, she hadn't exactly been indifferent to him either.

He didn't speak to anyone about their shared moments; that was something to be kept between himself and Gale. He knew she would probably write about it, but somehow that would be different. Gale was used to living in the public gaze, and if she wanted to include every detail in her book then that was just fine with him, but Dewey knew that if he himself said anything, he would feel as though he was exploiting her in some undefined way. So no one knew what had happened between them. But he watched her tv show religiously, spoke up in her defence at any hint of criticism, and somehow it started to get round that Deputy Dewey had a crush on Gale Weathers. He didn't bother to deny it; after all, he _did_ have a crush on Gale Weathers. More than a crush.

Until he read her book.

When it came out, he was first in line at the bookstore, blushing slightly at the knowing looks, but proud to be supporting Gale in her literary endeavours. He devoured the book avidly, eager to discover just how their few brief moments together had looked from her point of view. He was a little taken aback at pages thirty-two and forty-one, but figured that this merely represented her first, erroneous, impressions, which would then be corrected by later events. Except that they weren't. In fact, other than those initial, insulting phrases, he was hardly mentioned at all. Dewey felt like a fool. Evidently, she really had just been using him to get information, and that kiss which he'd thought was so wonderful had been nothing more to her than a means to an end. He'd thought that was the worst humiliation - until a former colleague asked him whether his 'inexperience' was professional or… um… personal?

At that moment, he felt like he almost hated Gale Weathers.

Almost.

So when those nude pictures of her surfaced on the internet, he tried very hard to tell himself that it served her right; that it was karma for the way she'd treated him, and Sidney, and probably half of the goddamned planet, knowing Gale, but he couldn't quite convince himself. And because, however hurt he might be feeling, however much he hated the damn book, however much he wanted to yell insults at Gale, Dewey was essentially a good guy, he never looked at those photos.


	3. Scream 2: Gale

She's surprised to see him. She'd thought about him at intervals, wondering if he'd read her book, and rather wishing that their time together had been long enough to allow something more to develop between them; but, truthfully, she hadn't really expected to see him again. She's even more surprised at his unexpected hostility, and at first she's at a loss as to the cause. When he starts quoting passages from her book, her first reaction is a little thrill of pleasure that he's read it; but apparently that isn't the point. He's bitter; and hearing her words spoken aloud, Gale starts to wish that she'd been more diplomatic in her phrasing. She still thinks he's overreacting, but he's clearly hurt, and she's sorry for that. Listening to the little speech he'd obviously prepared and memorised, about his 'subtle form of manipulation', Gale can't help but smile at the idea of the transparently honest Dewey ever attempting to manipulate anyone, and she is reminded of why she'd liked him so much. She reaches out to him as she makes her apology, but he pulls away, and it is only then that she begins to realise just how much she's hurt him.

He's still less than friendly when she turns up at the sorority house after the latest killing; and she takes her resulting bad mood out on Joel. It hurts more than she'd thought it would not to have Dewey on her side. She doesn't really want to analyse why his seemingly implacable resentment bothers her so much. Okay, he's sweet, and kind, and not bad to look at - and until her book had ruined things between them, he'd had a better opinion of her than she has of herself. And even now the air between them is charged with their physical attraction to each other. Still, there must be plenty of other guys out there who'd be glad to date Gale Weathers. But she hasn't been in a relationship since Woodsboro; and no matter how many times she tells herself it's just because she's been busy, she's starting to wonder whether the real reason might not have something to do with her feelings for Dewey Riley.

He at least manages to be civil to her while they're at the police station, which Gale tells herself is progress, of a sort, even if he still won't return her smiles or respond to her advances - not even when she says please, which isn't a word she uses often. She's always prided herself on her persistence, but she's starting to wonder how many more of Dewey's rejections she can take. However, when Debbie Salt suggests that Dewey might be a suspect, Gale's official 'no comment' policy flies out the window. She carefully doesn't think about why she's instinctively defending a man who seemingly wants nothing to do with her.

On the other hand, for a man who's giving a good impression of disliking her intensely, he does seem surprisingly adept at turning up wherever she happens to be. In this case, he's spending the beautiful sunny day sitting under a tree with her, discussing a serial killer. This would normally be Gale's idea of a good time; however, she can't help but notice that Dewey has chosen to sit on the other side of Randy, well away from her. She hopes it isn't significant. If she's lucky, it might just be her cigarette: Dewey clearly isn't pleased to see her smoking. She would explain, but she's rather hoping he doesn't know about the photos. That hope turns out to be a vain one. For reasons which she decides not to think about too deeply, it is important to her that Dewey should know that it wasn't her body. There's a subtext to that statement which she hopes he'll sense: that she wouldn't do anything he'd hate so much, that there isn't somebody else, that she hadn't moved on that quickly. She can't tell whether or not he even believes her, but then the killer calls them, and Dewey briefly clasps her arm. It's the first time he's touched her since he handed her his flashlight in Woodsboro, and this isn't the time to start thinking about it but maybe she hasn't lost him after all.

She's more shaken than she would have expected by Randy's death, and she could really use the reassurance of Dewey's presence. She locks eyes with him for a moment on her way out of the police station. It's an unspoken invitation, if he'll only take her up on it. Despite the reporters that swarm around, Gale lingers outside the building, but he is nowhere to be seen. She is blindsided by Joel's decision to quit, and Gale feels like she's running out of options, both professional and personal. Without a cameraman she can't do her job; and Dewey clearly still hasn't got past what he seems to see as some sort of betrayal. When Dewey finally does emerge, he unbends enough to give her what she thinks of optimistically as an almost-smile; but when she tells him she feels bad, he doesn't believe her and walks on. Her pride won't let her follow him, or even turn around, but she does call after him, and she's aware when he stops to listen. She doesn't care that his response is practically an insult; all she wants right now is to convince him that she means what she's saying. When she turns to face him and finds that he's already looking in her direction, she knows he's finally ready to let her fix things between them.

He offers to help her with the bag, and she lets him; after all, despite his injuries, he's still stronger than she is. He seems to like her idea of checking Joel's footage; it's not impossible that the killer will be on there. He says it's worth a look, and Gale assumes he's referring to the tapes. When she repeats the phrase, she isn't.

She attempts to hand him the first tape, but he fumbles and drops it. It could be a coincidence; but when he bumps her head as they both try to retrieve the tape, she realises he's as flustered around her as he was during their brief time together in Woodsboro. As she holds out the tape for the second time, their hands touch, their eyes meet, and she knows it's no longer a question of if, but when - and probably sooner rather than later. He presses play when the two of them appear on the screen and, now that things are almost right between them, she can't help but smile at the replay of Dewey's outburst. She takes the opportunity to apologise once more, now she knows he's really hearing her. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but she doesn't think it's a rejection. She'd made most of the moves in Woodsboro, and she expects he'll probably be even less forward this time, after the way she's hurt him, so she stretches out a hand and turns his face towards her. She knows he's finally accepted her apologies when he leans in and kisses her. Maybe he isn't going to be so tentative after all.

He's struggling to remove her jacket, and she sits up momentarily to get rid of the garment that's annoyingly in his way, then she's cradling his head in her hands and they're kissing again and he's touching her and suddenly there's footage playing that isn't her footage and everything stops. Despite her plea, he goes after the killer, and there's a moment of anxious waiting before he reappears safely - but then the killer's behind her, and once again she has to focus on saving her own life.

She's intent on watching the door when she hears him call her name. She turns, and reaches out, but the damn glass is in the way; there's always something coming between them, and too many of the obstacles have been her fault. If she had her chance again, there are a hundred things she'd change; but it seems like she's left it too late.

Finally, it's all over, and she insists she's okay when anyone asks, but she doesn't quite know what she's supposed to do with herself now. Really, when you counted it up, the time she and Dewey had had together was so little, and yet the loss of him has somehow left a huge empty space that she can't seem to see past. She's dazed, in shock, and in pain, when Joel arrives out of nowhere and hands her a microphone, a small piece of normality in this world that somehow looks different without Dewey. Her hand curls round it automatically, but then the EMTs are bringing out a casualty, and there's a familiar voice asking where she is, and suddenly she's right by the stretcher, and she has no idea what she's done with the microphone and she doesn't really care. Dewey seems to have been given some industrial strength painkillers, so he's not exactly coherent, but he's alive and he's asking for her, and that's good enough for Gale. They're loading him into the ambulance, and even in his drugged state he's clearly expecting to take second place to her job - but not this time.

This is her second chance, and she's taking it.


	4. Scream 2: Dewey

He genuinely wants to check on Sidney, of course he does. She's the nearest thing he's got to a little sister these days. But the prospect of finally getting the chance to tell Gale what he thinks of her is pretty appealing too. And he just knows she'll show up, probably sooner rather than later.

Despite the new hairstyle, she's still the same old Gale, and she seems to be completely unaware that he has any cause for grievance. She probably thinks he should be grateful that she even remembers his name. She can only ever see things from her own point of view. Even when he quotes her own damn book at her, her focus is on the fact that he's read it; she's so self-absorbed that she isn't even listening to what he's actually saying. She deserves every one of the bitter insults he's pouring out. It probably sounds as though he's spent months rehearsing his little speech; that's because he has. He'd carefully worked out the most hurtful things he could think of to say to her, and then practised them over and over in his mind (and, occasionally, aloud in front of the tv, while Gale was on the screen). He was determined to show her that he didn't care any more about her than she did about him.

Now he's face to face with her, he is forced to admit to himself that he still feels something for Gale. But the hurt and bitterness she's inflicted upon him lead him to question whether she's ever experienced a genuine emotion in her life. She may have apologised, but it's clear that she doesn't really believe she's done anything to apologise for.

Despite her persistent overtures towards reconciliation, he remains resolutely hostile. She may have said that she's sorry, that she'd never meant to hurt him, but that's not enough; he needs her to prove it. He needs to know that she hadn't just been using him in Woodsboro, needs to know that he hadn't been a fool to fall for her so completely, needs to know that she really had cared for him. He wants her to convince him. And he's desperately afraid she won't be able to do it.

He doesn't want to admit to Randy that he still has feelings for Gale. He doesn't want any more pitying looks; some days it had seemed to him like everyone in Woodsboro had read that damn book. Not that he plans to tell Gale that - she'd only take it as a compliment. But he still assures Randy that Gale isn't the killer. Okay, so the whole thing with Stu and Billy had shown that you could never really _know_ anyone; Gale does have a vicious streak; and he's still not convinced that she feels any real remorse for what she's done to him. But he knows she's not a killer. She may have disregarded his feelings and broken his heart, but he would trust her with his life. (At the time, he doesn't think this attitude particularly remarkable; later, when he hears about Sidney's doubts regarding Derek, Dewey will start to feel that his instinctive trust in Gale is highly significant.) He doesn't like the idea of Gale being a target; the fact that, in order to protect her, he will probably have to spend a lot more time with her, is something he inwardly terms a convenient nuisance.

He hadn't known that she'd started smoking, and he wonders what it would take to get her to quit. Not that it should matter to him. All those calls from Bob suggest that she's in great demand, and once the killer is caught, Gale will go her own sweet way once more, without so much as a backward glance at Dewey. He's assuming that the persistent Bob is a work contact; Dewey really doesn't want to consider any other possibility. At least she hangs up on Bob. Twice. Gale's leaning forward as she talks, her whole body angled towards Dewey (at least, it would be, if Randy wasn't in the way), and he wonders whether that's significant. But then the killer intervenes, and all these complicated feelings have to be put on hold. It definitely strikes him as significant that it's her phone the killer calls, and he determines from that point on to do his best not to let her out of his sight.

She says she feels bad, and how he wants to believe her, to believe _in_ her the way he had during their time together in Woodsboro. He knows he can't let himself be that naïve again. But she's trying her best. He does at least believe that. If she can't manage to convince him that she's sorry, maybe he can convince himself?

For a brief moment he worries that his disability will have changed the dynamic between them, but she allows him to shoulder the heavy bag for her without a murmur - in fact, she even seems to expect it - and Dewey suddenly feels a whole lot more masculine than he's done in years, severed nerve or no.

He isn't really surprised that she expects him to pick a lock just to get at a vcr (although he is rather surprised that she apparently believes he'd know how to do that). He wonders if his refusal will change things between them; after all, their relationship to date, such as it was, had been based on his willingness to do whatever she happened to want. She seems to accept his refusal, but he thinks he'd better hurry up and find her a vcr, just in case.

The charge between them is as potent as ever. When she attempts to hand him the tape, naturally, he drops the damn thing, then bumps her head in trying to retrieve it; and he wonders if he'll ever manage to be anything other than uncoordinated around Gale. His hand brushes hers as he takes the tape from her, and if he isn't going to give in and kiss her right now, he needs to concentrate on the screen. When he sees the footage of the two of them together, he forgets just why they're supposed to be watching it, and hits play. His insults fill the air between them for a second time; he winces at the cruelty of it, but for some unfathomable reason, it makes Gale smile. Hearing his own words, Dewey realises he's said worse to her than anything she's written about him, but for all Gale's faults she doesn't bear malice, and Dewey starts to feel mean and childish for the way he's nursed a grudge against her over a couple of off-hand comments in a stupid book. It suddenly occurs to him to wonder why he gives more weight to her written words than her spoken ones?

This time, when she says she's sorry, he believes her.

Then her hand is touching his face, and he's kissing her, and it's wonderful, and he's lying back on the desk which is so goddamned uncomfortable but he couldn't care less and she's right there with him and he's struggling to take her jacket off and she's helping him and she wants this just as much as he does and he can't believe he's touching her like this and then footage is playing that isn't Gale's, and everything stops.

It seems Dewey's brain has stopped as well, so Gale has to prompt him to relocate his hand, but the killer is apparently watching them, so Dewey can't think about that right now. Instead, he charges up the stairs, despite Gale's plea to him not to go. He may not officially be a cop any more, but he still has the same protective instincts and sense of duty that had led him to choose such a career in the first place. Of course, he also still has his natural ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Gale's already dodging the killer when Dewey, in his haste to reach her, falls headfirst down the stairs. He'd always known he'd end up falling at Gale's feet, but he hadn't meant to do it quite so literally.

When he comes to, he is alone. Naturally, he goes in search of Gale. This damn building is like a maze, and when he finally reaches her, she's on the other side of a panel of soundproof glass, and he can't get to her - he can't even make her hear him. It's not until he's been stabbed in the back, again, that he spots the microphone. He sees the stricken look on her face as he collapses to the floor, and he wishes he'd been kinder to her, wishes he'd accepted her first apology, wishes he hadn't wasted so much of what little time they'd had. Wishes he could have a second chance.

He regains consciousness as the EMTs are taking him to the ambulance, and his first thought is of Gale. He needs to know she's alive, needs to know that he'll be able to make it up to her, needs to know that he'll get his second chance. He calls out for her, just like the first time he was stabbed; but this time, miraculously, she appears at his side. She's in one piece, and she looks more or less okay, and Dewey mentally promises that from now on he'll believe everything she says to him, without question.

The first thing she says is that she's coming with him; and Dewey falls in love with her all over again.


	5. Interludes

Dewey's still under the anaesthetic when he's brought back from the operating theatre, and Gale is told that he'll remain unconscious for hours yet, but she's reluctant to leave him, even to get her own injuries treated.

For the first 24 hours after his surgery, she doesn't leave his room.

...

At first Dewey's pretty much out of it, doped up on anaesthetic and some wonderfully strong painkillers, but whenever the world swims briefly into focus, Gale is there, holding his hand. He vaguely wonders how she manages to be there every time he opens his eyes.

...

She's agreed to come back to Woodsboro with him. He hears her on the phone, wangling herself an extended leave of absence, because she's been shot, goddamnit, her ribs are broken, and if they won't give her any sick leave, she's going to quit right now and sell her exclusive eyewitness account of the Windsor College murders to the first rival network to make her an offer.

Dewey knows that nothing as trivial as a bullet wound and a couple of broken ribs would keep Gale away from a camera; she's doing this for him. Right at this moment, he's apparently the centre of her world.

He decides this probably isn't the best time to tell her that he still lives with his mother.

...

Sidney visits Dewey in the hospital, and can't quite hide her incredulity at his new relationship status. "You and Gale? Really?" They don't exactly strike her as the most obvious couple. "You do know you'll only end up getting hurt, right?"

Dewey does his best to convince her otherwise. "Gale's really a much nicer person than anyone thinks."

Sidney still doesn't believe that this unlikely relationship can possibly work. But, she supposes, if Gale really does have feelings for Dewey, the woman can't be all bad.

...

When Dewey's finally released from the hospital, Gale takes him to the best hotel in town for a few days of rest and recuperation before they attempt the journey back to Woodsboro. They've been giving each other meaningful looks for over a week now, and although they've been warned not to do anything strenuous, the temptation of that king-sized bed is just too much.

At first they're cautious, mindful of the fact that they both have injuries; but they get caught up in the moment and forget to be careful. And then they're back in the emergency room for a shot of morphine and a long wait for an x-ray to see if they've done any serious damage.

They leave with some rather more substantial strapping round Gale's ribs, a supply of stronger painkillers, and strict instructions not to attempt anything of the sort again until they're both considerably more recovered.

This time, they listen.

...

Their second attempt, when they finally make it, is much more successful.

...

Gale seems to have a vast quantity of clothes and make-up, but little in the way of personal possessions. When Dewey asks her about it, she tells him that she's got a couple of boxes in storage, but that she's not really the type to keep mementoes.

Typical Gale; no time to look back, always moving on to the next thing - sometimes even before she's finished with the current one.

...

He wakes in the night to find her sitting up in bed next to him, her laptop balanced on her knees as she writes. _The Windsor College Murders_, by Gale Weathers. He rolls his eyes, but he feels he can't say much; after all, Gale will be Gale, and she did give up a lucrative job in television to be with him in Woodsboro.

He gets to read the book before it's published, and her depiction of him this time is far more flattering. Dewey takes that as a good sign.

...

The first time Dewey had been stabbed, a nurse had come to the house twice a day: once in the morning to help him shower and dress, and again in the evening to get him ready for bed. This time, he has Gale, and she's surprisingly capable.

When Mrs Riley had first heard that Dewey was bringing Gale home with him, she'd wondered just how much assistance a little slip of a thing like that could possibly provide. What she hadn't taken into account was Gale's determination, her masterly array of strategies for getting her own way, and the fact that she has Dewey completely wrapped around her little finger.

For Dewey, 'because Gale says so' is a compelling reason for doing anything.

...

Every morning, Mrs Riley knocks on her son's bedroom door to let him know that breakfast is ready. She doesn't knock on the guest room door. That may be Gale's official accommodation, but it's not where she actually sleeps.

There's been some talk of the two of them getting an apartment, and as Mrs Riley sets the food on the table, she wonders just how they'd manage the catering arrangements in such an establishment. Dewey can't cook anything more complicated than toast, and from what she's seen of Gale, Dewey's mother suspects that the girl hardly knows how to boil water.

Mrs Riley decides that she'll have to give them some basic cooking lessons before they get this apartment, otherwise they're likely to starve.

...

There's a certain amount of media attention when Gale's book comes out, and even more when it's used as the basis of the second _Stab_ movie. Suddenly, she appears to be back on people's radar, and the job offers start coming in.

She turns the first few down.

...

Dewey accompanies Gale to the _Stab 2_ premiere in LA. She's in her element, posing on the red carpet; he trails along behind, holding her purse. That's not entirely her fault; she's happy for him to share the spotlight, but Dewey's never been comfortable in front of a camera, so he hangs back, watching her. She's clearly enjoying herself; but this isn't the sort of life he wants to live.

They don't stay to watch the movie.

...

Gale drives Dewey to his physio appointments, and monitors the exercises he's been told to do at home. They're supposed to be done daily; under Gale's supervision, they are. He's already walking better than he's done since the first time he was stabbed.

Gale's also good at keeping him cheerful. He even starts talking to Sheriff Burke about the possibility that he'll eventually be fit enough to return to his job as Deputy.

This all stops when Gale leaves.

...

This small town provincial _littleness_ is doing her head in. Nothing _happens_. _Ever_. She has to escape, even if it's only for a week. The network seems to think that her extended (and mostly unpaid - thank Christ for the money from her books and the _Stab_ movies) sick leave should be coming to an end; they want to send her to Paris, and she desperately wants to go. Dewey's practically recovered now. And she'll be back in a week.

...

Dewey buys her a purse. Not just any purse, but one carefully chosen to suit Gale's very particular requirements. It has a cut-out pattern at the side that will allow her to film covertly, using the little videocamera she seems somehow to have acquired.

He hopes that maybe, if she can film things here in Woodsboro, there won't need to be any more trips to Paris.

...

This time it's a month in New York, and Dewey knows he's losing her.

...

He can't hide his relief whenever one of her career opportunities fails to work out. This doesn't make things any easier between them.

They stop looking for an apartment.

They are still sleeping in each other's arms. But too often nowadays, Dewey is frowning in his sleep, and Gale's cheeks are tear-stained.

...

The chance of a job in LA is what finally breaks them. She asks him to come with her; he asks her not to go.

There are more arguments.

It's 60 Minutes 2, it's the opportunity of a lifetime, she has to take it. She wants him to come with her, and can't understand why he would choose Woodsboro over her.

He knows they're never going to give her 60 Minutes 2, just as she's never going to win a Pulitzer. He can't understand why she's prepared to throw away everything they have between them in order to chase the sort of career goals she'll never manage to attain.

They part on civil terms, with the fiction that their separation is temporary, but Gale has a one-way ticket, and Dewey doesn't ask for her new address.

...

Despite this, neither of them start dating anyone else.


End file.
